


Naive Melody

by ecllipsis



Category: Titans (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Coffee, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd - Freeform, Emotional Labor, Family Drama, Family History, Forgiveness, Found Family, Friendship, Garfield Logan & Jason Todd - Freeform, Garfield Logan & Niles Caulder, Gen, Give Gar more screen time 2k19, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Introspection, Post-Episode: s02e06, Rachel Roth & Jason Todd, Rachel Roth & Koriand'r - Freeform, Rachel Roth & Kory Anders - Freeform, Rachel Roth & Rose Wilson, Reconciliation, Self-Esteem Issues, Swearing, Team Dynamics, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 13:09:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21137225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ecllipsis/pseuds/ecllipsis
Summary: Tensions in the Tower are at an all-time high. Alone in the kitchen, Rachel contemplates her role in what's happened. She has a lot to make up for.She loved how the Tower came alive in those early days. It wasn’t home but her people were here, wanted to be. Was it so long ago?(Or: Rachel and Gar have a much-needed talk about the team, their mistakes, and how on earth they'll make it work.)Rating for language and references to violence.





	Naive Melody

**Author's Note:**

> Set following season 2 episode 6, a night after Conner saves Jason from the fall.

_ Home is where I want to be _

_ But I guess I'm already there _

_ I come home, she lifted up her wings _

_ I guess that this must be the place _

_ I'm just an animal looking for a home and _

_ Share the same space for a minute or two _

Rachel watches coffee brew and counts the drips.

They echo and it's open. Empty. Each sound is a small relief from the meter of distance between her and the others.

It’s quiet. Quiet is normal now.

When Dick pulled away from them, and the rest of his former team followed suit, the silence boldly occupied their places. Mean, dense silence. It’s like a storm between them. It pads the walls and swallows whispers. It stuffs cotton in Rachel’s ears when she tries to listen.

The drip, drip, drip of the Chemex isn't a perfect soundtrack, but anything is better than this.

The Tower isn’t home. But this is where Rachel wants to be, intellectually. Her feelings aren’t where her head is.

No... they aren’t her feelings. They’re the shards of Donna’s regret. The cracked foundation of Hank’s bleeding insecurity. The paralyzing grip of Jason’s terror. They’re ashes in empty vessels once occupied by her friends, and they burn her skin.

She's disjointed. It makes it hard to feel at home in her own body. Forget belonging to a physical space. 

But she can center on the pour-over before her on the counter. Her head pillowed on crossed arms, the brew crowds the void with a song. She draws it in.

She’ll take coffee any way she can get it: hot, iced, from the Blue Bottle around the corner, specialty, badly roasted, even stale. Just dump in enough sugar, get it hot, and it’s enough. Jason gives her judgmental looks for her bad taste. She doesn’t care.

Rachel is tired of pretending. She imagines she would have cared this time a year ago. It’s such a distant concept.

_ Thank God. _

She doesn’t gain anything by caring. Neither do her efforts to manage her situation. She reaches for the lesion masquerading as a gem on her forehead. Just to make sure. 

There’s plenty to do when your problems involve the logistics of being literal Satan’s daughter. Throw in the fractured company of masked vigilantes, runaway alien royalty, and demigods who found themselves the mark of a professional killer’s vendetta, and you only have so much emotional energy to invest in stuff that isn’t… like, surviving.

Coffee is part of that survival. It reminds Rachel of what she has that she didn’t before: that much more control over herself.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

_ Control. Right. _

_ The choices you make define your destiny. _ Kory’s words, not hers.

Rachel rolls her eyes. _ When have I ever had a choice? _

Maybe she’ll never be normal. How can you go back to “normal” if it wasn’t something you were to begin with? She had a normal life before this, but it existed in anticipation of abnormality. And it was a lie. And it sucked!

Her head buzzes with the memory of adrenaline and the relief that comes after unleashing her powers. She fought her father. Banished him. It didn’t feel like a choice. Maybe it wasn’t. Still, it was something she decided to do.

Dick decided to give them a home. Decided to stop running from them. From her. For a while. 

Life hasn’t always embraced her with kindness and warmth. Now, people do.

_ People, _ Rachel thinks fondly. Her heart thrums against her fingers the way coffee does as it’s poured into ceramic. Warmth blooms in her chest like steam from a fresh pot. _ My people. _

She loved how the Tower came alive in those early days. It wasn’t home but her people were here, wanted to be. Was it so long ago?

The bubbling of her single-serving size would draw in Dick, post-workout, an easy smile on his face. “Any left for me?” he’d tease, a glare from Rachel his answer. The smell would saturate the air and wake up Gar, who would shuffle in with a yawn. He’d shake off the grogginess with a funny noise and offer to make them all breakfast. Pans would clang against the counter and eggs would sizzle on the stove. The heat from a mug would light up Kory’s face when Rachel poured and passed one, prepped just the way Kory likes. Illuminated by a sunlit backdrop, she’d ask Rachel about her week while Dick helped cook. All the commotion and laughter would even put Jason in a good mood. Rachel would toss him a mug to do with what he pleased. He’d catch it and throw back a signature smirk, eye contact lax. During that rare truce, she and Jason shared a genuine connection, if fleeting.

Rachel brews coffee and remembers home.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The Tower is so quiet. It tugs at the memory of a house that was almost a home but instead became a grave. And an awakening.

Her lungs burn against thin air. She screws her eyes shut, hurried breath rushing through curled lips.

_ Slowly, Rachel, slowly. _ She breathes through her nose. _ Inhale. _ Out through her mouth. _ Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. In with the smell of coffee, out with the stress. In with coffee, out with no coffee. _ Her cheeks cool and the sting in her bunched muscles eases. _ I need to get a grip. _

In retrospect, those weekends Kory would visit from Chicago and they’d all sleep in for once were probably the best days of her life.

The glow in her chest fades to an ache. She glowers at the back of her eyelids in protest. Fingers intertwine on the counter. And for the first time in months, Rachel prays.

“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy Name,” she whispers. Her voice is barely a ghost in the vacant, massive room. “Thy Kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth, as it is in Heaven.”

_ If only, _ her cynicism mutters.

_ Shut up, _ she tells it.

“Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.”

She breathes in until her lungs push at her toes. The ceiling stares back at her, all stone and steel.

She shouldn’t have yelled at Gar.

_ Shit. _

She can’t control her destiny. So fucking what. She can control how she treats her friends.

Creeping dread hisses, _ this is just the start. You have a lot to make up for. _

Soft footsteps approaching from the hall wrest Rachel back to now. Her head snaps in the direction of the sound. The fluttering in her chest tickles her throat and she can’t help the sickly plunge in her gut. Or the needy smile on her cheeks. 

A green patch of hair approaches. A pair of eyes are fixed on the floor. She hopes, stupidly, that he just hasn’t noticed her yet.

She waves. 

He flinches.

_ Great. _

Gar rubs the back of his head.

"Hey!" she grins at him. "Do you want coffee?"

Brown eyes flick to her face, the Chemex, and back at the floor all in a second. "I, um," he starts, gesturing back the way he came, "I'm here to grab food for Dick. He's still downstairs."

Downstairs. At the computer. Trying to figure out where the hell Deathstroke escaped to. 

Oh.

"Dick loves coffee," Rachel says, reaching for a mug, cheeks hot. "I'll let you take credit for the brew if you bring it to him. Used the good beans." She shakes the bag for good measure.

_ Please take this to him, _ she begs. _ Please smell it and remember what this means to me. To us. _ Her smile only feels forced at the edges. _ Please help me find my way home. _

Gar furrows his brow. "Um, Rach, I'm sure he'd like it, but I don't really think he's in the mood for…" he trails off. Gives her a_ look. _

Like, he locks eyes with her, and Rachel is caught. She has to look back. Gar says all he can with that look. It breaks Rachel's heart.

_ Ha. Irony. _

Dick works through pain by working harder. An unnecessary distraction, even something simple, would dull that razor's edge focus and Dick won’t accept that. Especially after what happened with Jason. To Jason.

"Oh. I guess he wouldn’t go easy on himself," she accedes to his point. The flame in her chest cools to iron. 

Gar shuffles where he stands. His arms are pocketed and there’s a weird tension in them. Like he’s geared to bolt at a second’s notice but doesn’t want to tip Rachel off. They were avoiding each other since their fight. So.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Dick doesn't have to punish himself. But Rachel knows him, knows he’s still figuring out how to do anything else. She yields to Gar's wisdom. Like with her father, it’s a choice that isn’t a choice.

Dick protects them and he says it’s fine. But Rachel is tired of pretending.

_ Crap. This isn’t going to work. _

Silence swallows the sound of dripping coffee. Steam pushes against the glass of the Chemex, desperate to escape.

Coffee drips, and so does the truth. One little bit at a time.

“I didn’t- ”

“I’m- ” 

They both cut themselves off.

“Sorry. Can I go first?” Rachel doesn’t want to wait any longer. As Jason says, time to “cut the crap.” It’s been long enough in this stifling place. Maybe Dick won’t talk about what he’s dealing with. That doesn’t mean she can’t.

“Gar, I’m really sorry I blamed you for what happened.”

His bangs bounce from side to side. He gives her a halfhearted smile. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. All this drama has been eating everyone up and I can feel it chipping at my soul. It’s been so hard.”

_ Why am I so fucking whiny? _

“That’s not what I mean. I’ve just been in such a weird place lately. With Kory gone for so long and the rest of the group getting so mad at Dick- ”

_ Ugh — no. _

Her fingers thread a mask. “I mean… huh. Let me think.”

Gar’s brows furrow in... concern? Confusion? But he complies.

“Do you remember when Kory came to visit maybe a week after we moved here? When we went down to the pier and grabbed In-N-Out for dinner, and had a movie marathon in the living room?” She grabs at the memory, smoke through her fingers. “And it was like barely midnight before Kory and Dick decided they were done for the night, but you, Jason, and I stayed up all night.”

“Yeah, sure. We watched, like, all the Karate Kid movies. And the YouTube series.”

“We did. And then in the morning, we were all asleep on the couch, so Dick and Kory made us breakfast.”

Gar nods, smile warming. Rachel looks him dead on.

“We haven’t done anything like that in months.”

Brown eyes drop to the floor.

“We did it for a while and then we didn’t. I miss everyone. It seems like no matter what we do, there’s always something unspoken keeping us apart. And I don’t need the full story. But Dick and the others - they seem to be avoiding it. It’s different.” Jitters seize her limbs. Rachel has to tuck into herself to keep them contained. And to hide from Gar’s heavy gaze.

“The point is, I feel so isolated here. And I thought… I saw you as the one person who would tell me everything. I took it personally when you didn’t, but I wasn’t treating you like that person. I guess I was scared. I don’t want to have the problems I’m having so I tried to pretend I didn’t. I took it out on you. That’s not okay. So I’m sorry.” Her lungs tighten again and she’s standing on the peak of a mountain. The eternal expanse of the city beyond the windows makes her head spin. She screws her eyes shut. It’s freezing in this huge place.

_ What was I thinking? I shouldn’t have done this. He probably hates me. Does he hate me? I would hate me. I’m so stupid. I can’t look. Leave. But don’t go. Don’t look at me! God, this sucks! _

_ Ugh, get a grip, Rachel. This is dumb. _

She pries her eyes open. They can’t hold onto anything in this corner of the kitchen. Her stomach squirms.

“Rach.”

She steals a glance at her friend. Head tilted, eyes warm, Gar looks at her with such profound compassion she’s almost brought to tears.

“Rachel, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

"That's not what you said before." She slaps herself.

"I know. I didn't mean it."

“I know. Sorry. Again. I do want to tell you things.”

“Me too,” Gar smiles. Rachel didn’t notice when he stepped closer. The worm in her gut stops squirming so much. “I want us to trust each other. We’re friends first; that’s what makes us a team.”

Rachel scoffs. “Even Jason?”

_ Asshole. Shouldn’t have said that. _ Her scabs itch. Arms tighten around her abdomen.

Gar was her first friend. Jason isn't quite her friend, but he's the closest thing she has to a second. He’s a hothead and a slob, but this is his home too. He kept her secret when he didn't have a reason to. Huh. Two friends, then.

No wonder she's bad at this. 

Gar dips his head teasingly but means it when he says, “Even Jason. He’s one of us. I think he needs us right now.”

Rachel wills herself to internalize the notion.

_ He’s my- our people. Like it or not, we’re there for each other. Everyone deserves that. _

_ Even me? _

The last of the jitters tingle under her fingernails. “Yeah, you’re right. You usually are.” A different weight makes itself recognizable. The one that’s been there for days. "I have to apologize to him, too."

_ Fuuuuuuuuuuuck. _

It's not that she doesn't think he deserves it. She was just hoping for a moment in between.

Gar leans into her periphery. "About the training incident? I'm sure he knows you didn't mean it."

"Don't make excuses for me." She blinks hard. "I couldn’t control it. I know I did bad." That wasn’t the only time she lost control, or the worst.

A wave of nausea hits her, the afterbirth of an image: a broken body twisted in all the wrong ways. Her hands are her only shield against vertigo. She chokes. “And I have to apologize to Rose.”

“Hey, hey,” Gar coos. His collarbone cradles her forehead; arms circle her back.

“Don’t try to tell me it’s fine,” Rachel sobs. “None of this is fine. I really messed up.”

“Rachel, a mistake is a mistake.”

“But this was a horrible one.”

He lets her cry, tears blotching his sweatshirt like shrapnel. Her sobs ricochet off the walls and she’s so small. She loses track of how long she cries. Gar holds her the whole time. 

Her sobs bubble down to sniffles and hiccups. The hysteria faded, she’s exhausted enough to have run a marathon. Wool sleeves scratch her face when she wipes it.

“I’m right here, Rachel,” Gar says softly. “We’re gonna figure this out. Rose, Jason, and your powers."

"How? I've been trying… so, so hard to keep it all in."

"Has it been helping?"

"No."

"Then we know what doesn't work. We’ll try something else. You don't have to do this alone."

"So I talk about my problems and they go away? Is that it?" Her words are bile and she hates herself when they spit out. The gem in her forehead burns. Helplessness claws her heart raw. “Rose has no reason to forgive me.”

“Maybe she’s the one who decides that.”

“Why wouldn’t she?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know how she feels. One way to find out.”

Rachel rubs at her nose. She is an absolute tantrum-prone toddler. And pleads in silence for Gar to not notice the line of snot on her sleeve. If he does, he’s too considerate to comment on it.

“Isn’t it worth the chance?”

_ Of course, it is. She should be our people, too. _

“I just want something to make me normal again,” Rachel whimpers. _ God, I’m pathetic. _

"I don't think it's about a solution," Gar says, words crafted with intention. "Your powers aren’t a problem to solve. It seems… more like a condition. I learned from Dr. Caulder conditions can be managed. It’s not always easy. But it's so much harder by yourself. So let us help you." Brown eyes lock with hers. "We'll get through this as a team."

Rachel isn’t confident they will. Or that she deserves the support he's offering. But she nods. And hopes he reads the gratitude on her face.

Gar grabs the stool next to hers. “And I’m sorry, too.”

“For what?”

“Insinuating you can’t control your powers?”

“I can’t.”

“Okay, I shouldn’t have used that against you. Or as a reason to exclude you.”

“I get it. I excluded you first. You didn’t have to tell me your plan, anyway. I shouldn’t have assumed you would.”

“Well, you did have reasons. It’s not like we’ve never snuck out to do something…” he searches for words.

“Highly unrecommended?” 

Gar’s mouth quirks, a polite smile at a yucky joke. She’s not wrong. Maybe it’s a little too fresh to poke fun at.

"I want you to tell me things too. I mean, who do you talk to if we’re fighting and Kory’s not here?” She didn’t mean it, but — oh.

Rachel has Kory to confide in. Gar does too, of course, but Kory’s one person and Rachel gets a lot of her attention. Jason has Dick. Gar has... whatever’s left.

Gar shrugs. “I do alright. The adults can only do so much for us, you know? Especially lately.”

“You don’t want their attention?”

“Eh. In my experience, having it isn’t always good.” He flexes his fist and a muscle in his jaw pops. “Dick asks me to help when he thinks I can be helpful. Best to stay out of it otherwise.” His leg bounces. 

"This ‘remember we’re a team’ stuff sounds like advice Dick should hear," Rachel remarks.

Gar chuckles sharply. "He sure keeps to himself."

_ Hmm. _

“You helped Dr. Caulder with his… experiments, right? When he asked?”

Gar nods, muscles taut. “After the last time, when he… when I...” he shakes off the tension and the rest of that thought. “It made me reconsider a lot. I like helping Dick, though. Takes some stuff off his plate.” Voice low, he adds, “Guy needs it.”

Rachel nods. “Yeah. On that note… I’ve noticed you’ve been trying to smooth things over between everyone,” she says, crosses fingers in her mind’s eye that sounded alright.

Gar doesn’t look offended. “What do you mean?”

“Like, bringing food to Dick when he hurts like this. Or when he says something stupid to Jason. You’re the first to tell Jason it wasn’t what it was.”

Gar doesn’t rationalize it as she expects. He sighs. The exhale rustles her hair.

“That’s what I’ve always done,” he murmurs into the counter. “Makes it easier.”

“I think it’s great you wanna help. We need to remind each other we’re a team.” She considers her next words. “I’m pretty tired of pretending things are okay when they’re not, though. Are you?”

Gar peeks up at her and she matches his stare. It’s uncomfortable, this much vulnerability. 

“Yeah,” he finally says. “I am.”

“Then let’s call bullshit when we see it.”

“There’s a mountain of it at this point.”

Rachel snorts. “If that isn’t true...”

Gar holds a flat palm out to her. “Here on out, no secrets. No bullshit. Deal?”

“Deal.”

They shake on it. The sound echoes. But barely. The voice in Rachel’s head, the panicky one, is calm. There’s a little room for her.

Rachel breathes.

“Alright then. No secrets. Fighting with you sucked."

The ensuing chortle is heavy. "Yeah. Let's not do that again."

"Definitely.” She shifts in her seat. “So. It's been a little while. How are you doing?”

Gar hesitates, but to his credit, he doesn't look away. “I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“Gar, that’s the most worrying thing you can say. Let me be here for you too.”

He leans into his palm until the stool and counter support his full weight. He collects his thoughts, face hard.

“I… am… wondering how… relevant I am,” he concludes.

Rachel’s brows meet her hairline. “Like you’re… worried you don’t matter?”

Gar pounds the counter with a loose fist. “I’m worried I don’t matter enough when it’s important.” It tumbles out of him like a waterfall. “I mean, we have a legacy to fulfill, right? The Titans.” The name is his Seventh Wonder. “They’re here to help us, one way or another, become them. And I hope… is there anything we can do to avoid becoming… all this?” He gestures to the space. He doesn’t mean the kitchenware. Quiet and borderline desperate, he asks, “Is repeating history part of the deal?”

“It might not be repeating history,” Rachel points out. “They won’t tell us what happened the first time.”

He doesn’t laugh even a little.

“Right,” she mutters. “Bullshit.”

“Look, I’ve had some time to think,” Gar goes on. “Jason wouldn’t have found Deathstroke the way he did without my help. But that doesn't mean he wouldn't have found him.” He motions with empathy to Rachel. “You know him, he doesn’t take no for an answer, and once he sets his mind on something, it’s as good as his.” He says this last part with conviction: “But it shouldn’t have been me.”

He closes his eyes and inhales trembling breath through his nose. “I was the means. Complicit. Even though I knew better. I couldn’t change what was going to happen. And I feel - ” he stops, gasping for air in the undertow, “ - _ horrible _about that.”

Rachel grounds him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Rachel, Jason almost died because of me.”

“No,” Rachel says, mind clear. “Jason was saved because of you.”

“That was the beefy guy in the infirmary.”

“And you.”

“That’s… one way to look at it.”

“I’m serious. You’re the reason we knew where to look at all.”

“Because I’m the reason he was there.”

“Yeah, and if he left without telling anyone, how much longer would it have taken us to find him? Or figure out what happened?”

Counterpoints form behind Gar’s eyes. Rachel holds steady. 

“You made all the difference, Gar.”

The message circles about his head to sink beneath the surface in slow motion. Resignation and what might be acceptance reverberates in Gar’s sigh. He blinks his eyes closed. Rests his chin on the counter. Warm breath fogs the surface.

Hunched over, he looks utterly exhausted. Rachel’s heart twinges. 

“You wanted to help him and you did the best way you knew how. It was close, but he’s okay now.”

“I’m not sure about ‘okay.’”

“Right,” Rachel says, kicking herself for her clumsy word choice, “maybe not. But it’s like you said. We're here for each other. And I'll remember you did your best till you can. Sound good?”

A pregnant pause.

“Sounds good." 

A silence — comfortable, for once — settles over the two. The gem in Rachel’s forehead is warm, a hot stone massage on a pressure point.

Gar points to Rachel’s forgotten coffee. “Think that’s cold.”

“Shit,” Rachel whispers. She checks, and he’s right. Stone cold.

“I can make a batch,” Gar offers. “I did kinda distract you.”

Rachel waves him away. “It’s pretty late for coffee, anyway.” She dumps the leftovers into a pitcher from the fridge. Tosses the filter. Rinses the pot. “Dick wasn’t hungry.”

Gar chuckles, the sound a gentle chime. “Guess not. My luck.”

“You know who might be, though?”

“Jason?”

Rachel nods.

“He has been up in his room all day.”

They share a look.

“I’ll grab the Cheez-Its.”

“I’ll make popcorn.”

They spring into action like it’s the first night of summer vacation. The kitchen comes alive with an ensemble, the _ clang-clang! _ of dishware and the _ smack! _of slammed cabinetry. “We didn’t finish Cobra Kai season one,” Gar thinks aloud. “Think he’ll mind if we use his TV?”

Rachel tosses box after brightly colored box on the counter. Each lands with a _ thud! _ like the kick of a bass drum. She snickers, “I don’t think he has a choice.”

Gar throws the microwave door closed with fervorous_ bam! _ To the rhythm of a monotone _ beep, beep-beep, beep, _Rachel whips out her phone. “It’s 9:34 PM. How long would the rest of season one take us?”

“Not sure. We were only on like episode three.” He grins at her, sheepish. “And honestly, I don’t remember any of it.”

“Neither do I!”

“The popular votes have it, then. Episode one it is!”

The sharp _ crack-crack-crackle-crack _ of kernels join the melody with a crescendo. Rachel's insides do a little dance. "It’s better this way. Because... Rose won't be left out." She fires Gar a pinched expression. 

He nods reassuringly. "Yeah. Good call."

Rachel shakes off the feeling. This might suck, for sure. And it's the right thing to do.

“I want to be her friend. I don't like being the only girl.”

“Oh,” Gar says like he just realized she was. “I bet.”

“I don’t know if she wants it too.”

"I think she might.”

Rachel lets herself dare. “Yeah. I hope so.”

Plastics _ crinkle-crinkle _ and cardboards _ pop! _when Rachel opens the boxes, completing the orchestra. The joyful song fills her ears and every corner of the kitchen. It vibrates over the dining table to the fireplace, the sofas, the windows.

“We got this,” Gar confirms.

That phrase is the concert’s climax. A smile bursts Rachel’s face.

_ Yeah. We do. _

Like kids alone in a penthouse overlooking the best city in the world, they gather their supplies and chase each other towards the hall. Their song carries them, resonating with eager footsteps and too much laughter to be melancholic.

So their problems aren't solved and there's a lot of bullshit to muck. Big deal. Rachel has Cheez-Its and movie night and a team. A team she chooses and who chooses her back.

Maybe it’s all the choice she needs.

As they run, the walls hold her closer. The room isn't so dominating. It reminds Rachel less of an asylum and more of sunny mornings after too-late nights. More of breakfast and shared space and coffee. More of her people, less of their ghosts.

More of... home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This turned out to be about 10 pages longer than I expected. I love the song they used when the team sees the Tower for the first time in s02e01. It felt like a great prompt given where they are now. 
> 
> If you have a thought, please share it! I love to engage with feedback.


End file.
